Ways to See a Ghost

linked to your troubles.”
    “What work?” asked Isis, fear building inside her.
    “Phil’s very kindly offered to cleanse your aura,” said Cally.
    “My aura?”
    Cally nodded. “You know, darling, the field of psychic energy around your body. Phil can see its colour, he can clean it up.”
    Isis stared at them. Was this a joke?
    “I’ll clear away the darkness, the stains of sorrow and trouble,” said Philip. “You’ll forget all your unhappiness.”
    She shook her head. “I don’t want to do it.”
    Philip reached out to her. “Your mother told me how unhappy you are. She thinks you’re suffering from delayed trauma about your sister.”
    The word on his lips held strange echoes. Isis backed away.
    “It’s got nothing to do with her,” she said.
    Cally caught her hand. “I talked with Phil, and he explained it so clearly.
Everything
for us is about Angel.” Her voice was quiet, trembling. “What happened to her changed us both so much.”
    If only Cally knew! But Isis couldn’t tell her, not with him here.
    “Please,” said Cally, “I just want us to be happy again. We’ve been through so much, and now we can be better. Phil can work on our auras, right here in the sunshine.”
    Isis shook her head again, looking around for escape. But there was only the path, and it wouldn’t take her anywhere; at the other end was a just small car park in the middle of fields.
    “I don’t want to,” she repeated.
    “I promise, it won’t do her anything but good,” said Philip, looking at Cally, who nodded. The two adults agreed between themselves, ignoring Isis.
    Philip sat down on the ground, crossing his legs. They squeezed out of his shorts, the colour of uncooked pastry.
    “My spirit guide wants to help you,” he said, looking up at Isis. “Why not think of it as a spring clean for your soul?” He patted the grass. “Please, sit down.”
    Cally immediately knelt down on the grass next to him.
    “I’ve worked on auras hundreds of times,” said Philip, “and people always tell me they feel better afterwards.”
    Now Cally grabbed Isis’s hand and pulled her down. The grass was soft as lace.
    Surely someone else would come into the clearing? A sightseer or dog walker, interrupting them and bringing this all to an end.
    But no one did.
    Cally took Isis’s hand and put it into Philip’s. His grip was fleshy, warm and as tight as a manacle.
    “Now,” he said, “we’re here today, in this special place, to find healing for you both.” His voice oozed with calmness. “Your auras have been clouded by sad events, but with help from the spirits, we can clear away the darkness and send you forth refreshed and sparkling.”
    Isis studied the top of his head, watching for anything spilling in or out, but there was nothing apart from hisshiny-bald skin under thinning hair. Did he even know what was hidden inside him? The woman at the theatre had no idea about Mandeville’s possession of her.
    Philip turned to Cally, without letting go of Isis’s hand. “Cally, can you use the meditation technique we’ve been practising at meetings?”
    Cally nodded and gazed upwards, her eyes unfocused, breathing deeply through her nose.
    “Shut your eyes,” Philip said to her, “and find your third eye.”
    “Her what?” asked Isis.
    “It’s my psychic portal,” said Cally, her voice low and sleepy. “It connects me with the spirit world.”
    “That’s right,” said Philip, soothingly. “And now you’re drifting out through your portal, into communion with the spirits. Isn’t it beautiful? Too beautiful to see or hear anything else.”
    Philip started to hum tunelessly, first whining the sound though his nose, then dropping into a beelike rumble. Even as she tried to stay alert, Isis began to feel sleepy, while Cally’s breathing grew even slower and deeper. After a little while Cally began to snore gently.
    Isis pulled herself out. “Cally, wake up!”
    Cally didn’t react, not even a flicker of her eyelids.
    “Don’t worry,” said Philip, giving Isis’s hand a squeeze. “She’s just in a deep trance. She’s having a lovely dream, really enjoying herself. Your mother’s a wonderful subject, very open to suggestion.”
    “You’ve hypnotised her?” Isis stared at her mentally absent mum.
    Philip nodded. “One of my modest talents. How else could we speak privately?” His grip on her hand tightened a bit, scrunching her fingers together and hurting her. “Calista would